


Oh Darling Please Be Mine

by EmilyScarlett



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst with a Happy Ending, Captivity, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, There is no actual non-con in the fic, This is not as dark as the tags suggest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:07:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26501116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilyScarlett/pseuds/EmilyScarlett
Summary: "Please, stop this. You have me. I’ll do anything you want. I saw how you looked at me. Let them go and I’m yours.”“You’re not suggesting-”“Yes, I am. I can be good, compliant. Whatever you want. You can do anything you want to me, whenever you want. Just let these people go.”Or:Enjolras finds himself being held captive by Prince Grantaire, whose family he was just protesting against.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 91





	Oh Darling Please Be Mine

The turnout had been better than even Enjolras expected. Nearly the entirety of the village was there to at least listen. No doubt some of them would be unconvinced, but still they were all here.

Enjolras was buoyed with hope as he took to the empty space which formed a makeshift stage. It had rained last night and his new boots, gifted by a particularly inspired cobbler in the previous village (despite Enjolras' insistence that he pay for them), squelched in the mud as he made his way to the front of the crowd. Well, never mind. This was worth a little mud. He caught sight of Combeferre and Courfeyrac going through the mass of people and passing out pamphlets to those who could read. He was heartened by their presence and looked to the crowd. There were at least fifty of them by his count, everyone from housewives with newborn babes at their breasts, to blacksmiths, to a lone figure perched on a horse at the back of the crowd.

"Citizens, I stand before you and ask you but one question. What are your lives worth?" He paused to let them measure that sentence before continuing. "You must all agree that each of your lives is immeasurably precious. The most valuable thing that you have. So why then, do you spend it toiling for the good of people who never give you a second thought? Why should the benefit of your toil go to some far away lord, who pays taxes to a king who tyrannizes over you, living in the lap of luxury, never having worked- really worked- a day in his life?” They were really listening now; a few murmurs of agreement making their way through the crowd. “I say to you that we who are so many ought to topple this system created by a few rich men. Take up arms and demand the right to our freedom-”

“Enough!” A loud, low voice cut Enjolras off, coming from the lone figure of the horse. “This meeting is to disperse, by order of the King.”

“We have a right to gather and to overthrow our oppressors!” Enjolras shouted, and was accompanied by an agreeing cry from the gathered crowd.

“If you will not disperse willingly, you will be forced.”

“And who are you to command us so?”

“Crown Prince Grantaire, at your service.” The prince gave a mocking bow of his head from atop the horse. “And you, fair revolutionary, what should I call you if not Narcissus for your beauty?”

“I am Enjolras, and I will not be frightened away by titles or rank!” Enjolras cried incensed by the appraising look this Grantaire had given him. People had valued his beauty all his life, and he knew desire when he saw it.

“Very well then. Guards!”

The next few minutes were a mess of mud and screams. Mounted guards burst from behind the buildings and sent the crowd into a panic. Enjolras lost sight of Combeferre and Courfeyrac immediately and could only hope for their safety as he dragged a man knocked over by the crowd to his feet. Mud kicked up from one of the horse’s hooves splattered across his eyes and he was blinded for a moment. Something knocked into him from behind and he went sprawling to the ground. All of the air pushed from his lungs on impact. He pushed his arms underneath his chest, managing to get up on all fours, but still unable to draw breath. He gasped and choked and had only just managed to draw sweet air into his lungs when someone grasped his shirt at the back of his neck and pulled him from the crowd.

Before he could gather his wits enough to fight his wrists were pushed into manacles and Prince Grantaire was the one locking them shut. Combeferre and Courfeyrac were a few meters away, both looking worse for wear and both manacled. Three guards were watching over the two of them. The rest of the guards were corralling the townspeople into a panicked, swirling mass. There were children among them, people injured and only getting hurt worse. Enjolras saw a body laying face down in the mud and felt as though the ground beneath him had begun to tilt.

“Stop this,” he hissed at Grantaire.

“I tried to. You refused.” 

“Please. They’re just people.”

“They’re rebels.”

Enjolras watched helplessly, pulling at his chains as more and more villagers were injured. Grantaire’s grip remained strong. This was his fault and there was nothing he could do to stop it now. He heard a child cry out and filled with desperation he grabbed Grantaire’s arm and pulled him close.

“Please, stop this. You have me. I’ll do anything you want. I saw how you looked at me. Let them go and I’m yours.”

“You’re not suggesting-”

“Yes, I am. I can be good, compliant. Whatever you want. You can do anything you want to me, whenever you want. Just let these people go.” He hardly knew what he was saying. Every moment that passed was another moment people were hurt. Grantaire stared at him, his mouth working a few times before he made any sound come out of it.

“The two that came into town with you, I can’t let them go.”

“Don’t hurt them.”

“They’ll come with us to the capital, where they’ll be imprisoned as traitors. That is the best I can do.”

Enjolras wanted to protest, but there was no time. Besides, the alternative might be Combeferre and Courfeyrac dead, and he couldn’t bear that. Wordlessly, he nodded. Grantaire called to the guards who backed off from the remaining villagers. Before Enjolras knew what was happening he found himself heaped into a cart with Combeferre and Courfeyrac. They came to him immediately, fussing over his injuries and asking what had happened. At his continued silence they stopped asking, and simply held him. He huddled close with his friends and tried not to think about what fate awaited him as the cart rolled out of town.

* * *

Grantaire stopped to take a breath before he entered his father’s chambers. There was no way he saw this going well. What the hell had he been thinking, bringing Enjolras back here? But Grantaire had wanted him to live, and this seemed the only way to accomplish it. He'd seen that man- that god, it seemed, heard him condemn the injustice in their kingdom amd he'd been struck. Not that he'd agreed with Enjolras' call for violence which would only lose lives and change nothing, but the way that he believed something better was possible. Grantaire was helpless against such fervour and belief. So he had wanted Enjolras to live, wanted to protect him and to know him. Not to mention those poor people in the village. Desperate enough to risk treason, hopeful enough that they couldn’t see they would all end up dead if they did. It had given Grantaire an excuse to save their lives as well. Bahorel put a bracing hand on his shoulder before falling back to stand with the other guards outside of his father’s rooms. After one last peaceful moment, Grantaire headed in.

Joly was just finishing up his examination of the ailing king, by the looks of it. He was packing away his equipment with a grim expression.

“Well?” the King barked, making Joly jump a little.

“Well, Your Majesty, there is a possibility of some progress-”

“No, none of that. Tell me the truth.”

“There is liquid in your lungs, Your Majesty. At this point there is little we can do.”

“How long?”

“A few weeks, perhaps a month.” Joly seemed to deflate as he spoke. “I am very sorry, Your Majesty.”

“There must be something that can be done,” Grantaire insisted.

“There are things we might try,” Joly conceded. “Heat and blood letting, but at this point there isn’t much hope.”

“Then let me die in peace,” the King announced.

“Father-” Granatire protested as Joly left the room.

“Enough. You’ll be king soon enough and there’s no time to waste in preparing you for that. Did you see to the rebels in the country?”

“Yes father. They are subdued for now.”

“But?”

“How did you know-”

“I’m your father, boy. I know you better than anyone.”

How quickly they come to what Grantaire has been dreading.

“We took some prisoners. The instigator and his compatriots.”

“You have a reason for this, I assume?”

“They were restrained, and no longer a threat.” His father raised an eyebrow and felt himself colouring as he said what he had to say next, nevermind that he had no intention of bedding the boy. “The leader he… offered himself to me. In exchange for the safety of the villagers and his friends.”

“And you accepted!” His father looked like he would be out of the bed and after him if he could be. “For an easy lay?”

“I accepted. You have been telling me that I should no longer go into town, disguised or no, and bed who I can attract there. Well, how about this. The rebels live and I shall do so no longer.”

His father stared at him for a moment before he started laughing, a horrible wheezing laugh, but laughter all the same.

“Perhaps you are ready to be king after all. Very well, you can have your revolutionary, but if I hear so much as a whisper of you leaving the castle grounds without proper authorization I’ll kill him and his fellow traitors.”

“Yes, father.”

“And be sure to keep him contained!” was the answer that trailed after he made his bows and began to leave.

Christ, just how was he meant to do that? He’d have to have Enjolras in his room, for appearance’s sake. He’d sent him off to the baths under heavy guard as soon as they’d arrived. The journey had lasted four days, and Enjolras had picked up all kinds of debris from the open cart he was in, not to mention his trip into the mud before that. Hopefully, the dirt would take a while to wash away and Enjolras wouldn’t be there yet when he arrived back at his rooms.

When he arrived he found his rooms devoid of anyone apart from Jehan, thankfully. The man in question pulled Grantaire into a fierce hug the second he saw him, and Grantaire breathed in the familiar scent of soap and something floral that always seemed to cling to Jehan’s flame red hair.

“You heard?” Grantaire asked once he was released.

“It’s all anyone’s talking about.”

“It’s not what it seems. I would never-”

“I know.” Jehan’s smile was perhaps the softest thing in the world. “I’m sure you did what was best at the time. I came to check on you, not to scold you.”

“You’re the best.”Jehan only smiled again. “Where’s Bossuet?”

“He went to see to dinner. He figured you wouldn’t want to go to the Great Hall tonight. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

“I don’t deserve either of you.”

“Nonsense. However, I must leave you soon,” Jehan said, pulling him in for another hug.

“You won’t stay for dinner?”

Jehan smiled ruefully. “My lady mother requires my presence at dinner. It’ll be just you and your revolutionary, I’m afraid. And I think it’s better that way, at least for now.”

“Better, maybe, but not easier.”

“You’ll manage.”

Jehan left after one last hug, just as Bossuet was arriving. His manservant opened his mouth to speak with a concerned look on this face, but Grantaire held up his hand to halt him.

“Please don’t, Bos. There’s not much time before he gets here and if you want to know how I’m doing that’s a longer conversation than we have time for.”

“Alright,” Bossuet conceded after a moment's hesitation. “But don’t think we aren’t getting plastered later and talking this all through.”

“Sounds perfect. For now can you bring me a length of chain and a padlock? I think I ought to make sure I’m not murdered in my sleep.”

“Good idea. And here,” Bossuet paused to throw something at him. He barely caught it. “I brought the wineskin from your horse. Thought you might need it. There’s more coming with dinner.”

“You’re an angel.”

“If only I had wings.” Bossuet gave him a small smile before he left. Grantaire chugged what wine was left in the wineskin. Really, where would he be without his friends. He would probably have drank himself to death long ago.

Bossuet was back in record time, and brought two maids carrying dinner with him. No sooner had he wrapped the length of chain around the bedpost with the padlock dangling loosely from it, than there came a knock at the door. Grantaire looked at Bossuet in panic, and Bossuet pressed his lips together in what Grantaire could only describe as commiseration before going to answer it. Two guards marched in with Enjolras between him. If he’d been beautiful before it was nothing compared to how he looked now; pink-cheeked from the bath, his hair still damp at the ends but light and fluffy at the scalp where it had dried already. He looked like a painting brought to life. Grantaire had been wrong to call him Narcissus before. Narcissus would weep bitter tears of envy seeing Enjolras’ face.

“The traitor, Your Highness,” one of the guards announced.

“Thank you. You may leave us.” The guard handed over the keys to Enjolras’ manacles, still locked around his wrists, and left. Bossuet brought up the rear, giving Grantaire one last sympathetic look as he closed the door behind him.

“Well,” Grantaire announced, turning to his captive. “Are you hungry?”

* * *

After a bone-rattling four day long journey in an open cart Enjolras was glad to be clean, but not at the cost of his dignity. As soon as they’d reached the castle Combeferre and Courfeyrac had been dragged away from him as he himself had been pulled down to the baths in the bowels of the castle. He didn’t bother protesting when they stripped him. He doubted he’d see much of his clothes from now on. Or much of anything apart from what the prince allowed him to see. He bristled when they started to scrub at him as though he were a child incapable of cleaning himself, but he said nothing. He had promised his compliance, and Combeferre and Courfeyrac were locked away somewhere in this wretched place to ensure it. He could not falter.

Once he was scrubbed to within an inch of his life in every conceivable place, he was clothed in a simple white shirt and brown breeches and dragged through the castle. People stared at him as he passed, and he had no doubt that everyone had heard who he was, and what use he was being put to. All too soon one of the guards knocked on a door and he was dragged into the Prince’s chambers. He watched numbly as the guard handed over the key to his manacles and left. He dimly heard the Prince ask if he was hungry.

“Yes, Your Highness,” he answered. He aimed for meek but it came out sounding closer to begrudging. The Prince raised an eyebrow but gestured for Enjolras to sit in one of the chairs at a table with two plates of roast duck, boiled potatoes, and carrots. When the Prince indicated he began to eat, barely tasting the food in his eagerness. They had not been fed well in the cart. The Prince offered him wine, which he was not prone to partake in, but he felt he could do with it now. The man in question downed an entire goblet in one long pull before he spoke.

“You can call me Grantaire. Most people do. Since we’re to be in such close quarters it seems less awkward.”

Enjolras tried not to show his anxiety at being reminded of the very close quarters they would soon be in and simply gave a curt nod. He saw that half of the food was almost gone and felt a sudden sickness at the thought of what would come after they had eaten.

“Where are Combeferre and Courfeyrac?” he asked, partly to distract himself, but mainly because his worry for them was a block of ice lodged in his chest.

“Imprisoned, as I said they would be.”

“You won’t hurt them?” His heart pounded in his chest. Now that he was here Grantaire could take whatever he wanted if he wasn’t interested in dutiful compliance. Enjolras was chained, in a castle full of guards, and much physically weaker than Grantaire anyway. He was helpless to stop him.

“I gave you my word,” Grantaire answered, and Enjolras breathed a little easier. His submission would keep his friends safe.

“I want to see them.”

“I think you must be the most demanding prisoner I’ve ever captured,” Grantaire commented dryly, and Enjolras barely held back from cursing himself aloud. It wasn’t in his nature to be compliant, and already he was putting Combeferre and Courfeyrac in danger. “You may think me a fool,” the Prince continued, “but I possess at least half a brain. You’re not getting anywhere near them. I won’t have you escaping.”

“I’m supposed to just trust you that they are unharmed?”

“What choice do you have?”

Enjolras sucked in a breath. That was the heart of the matter laid bare. He had no choice at all. Everything relied on Grantaire’s goodwill and he seemed to already be running out of that. Perhaps his despair showed on his face, for Grantaire’s seemed to soften.

“Look, I understand that they’re your friends and it’s terrible to be unsure about their fate. I’ll try to figure out a way for you to see them but only _if_ I’m sure that you won’t try to escape with them, let alone be able.”

“I gave you my word,” he replied, echoing the Prince’s earlier statement. It wasn’t much, and Grantaire might be lying, but it was something. Some small speck of hope that Grantaire was under no obligation to offer him but had anyway. “Thank you,” he croaked, barely even ashamed that there were tears in his eyes. Grantaire cleared his throat.

“Anyway, it’s getting late. If you’re done eating, we should go to bed.”

The sick feeling was back in full force now that they had come to it, but he forced himself to nod. He would go to bed with Grantaire, let himself be used however the Prince wanted, and then tomorrow he would wake up and do it again, and again, until one day he might be allowed to see his friends again.

Grantaire led him into what could only be his bedroom with how grand it was. Once they were close enough to the left side of the bed Grantaire grabbed the chain linking Enjolras’ manacles.

“Unfortunately, we’ll have to share the bed, and I don’t quite trust you yet not to murder me in my sleep so…” With a deft hand Grantaire fixed the manacles to a length of chain already wrapped around the bedpost with a frightening looking padlock. He put the keys to both the padlock and the manacles well out of reach. Being tied to the bed was no more than Enjolras expected. He wondered dully if he would ever be allowed to leave.

He laid on the bed when Grantaire raised an eyebrow at him and tried to stop his body from shaking. In this position his arms were forced up by his head and to the side a little, leaving his body vulnerable. Grantaire was changing into night clothes which seemed a little strange, but perhaps he wanted to be able to fall asleep right after. Enjolras’ breath came quicker as Grantaire went around to the other side of the bed, extinguishing the candles as he went. He pulled back the covers and climbed under them before turning towards Enjolras.

“Aren’t you going to get under the covers?” he asked.

“I can’t reach them,” Enjolras replied dumbly. He didn’t understand a single thing that was happening and was beginning to wonder if his brain had just shut down in panic.

“Oh. Here.” Grantaire lifted the covers and Enjolras slid under them as he was bid, feeling strangely like a child being tucked in by his parents when he lowered them over him.

They lay in silence for a while, until Enjolras was forced to admit- despite warning himself not to hope- that Grantaire didn’t seem to intend to take him tonight. Perhaps he was tired from the journey. Or perhaps he simply didn’t feel like fucking anyone. It hardly mattered. Enjolras was under no illusion that this was anything more than a momentary reprieve, and when he finally fell asleep it was a fitful and restless sleep that hardly left him feeling rested at all.

* * *

Grantaire blinked sleepily against the beam of light that had forced its way through the curtains to shine right into his eyes. He rolled to the side to escape the glare and collided with a warm body that let out a sharp gasp at being touched. Enjolras stared at him with wide eyes, and Grantaire could only stare back dumbly for a moment before he collected himself enough to move away.

"Good morning," he said, his voice still rough with sleep. Enjolras didn't reply so Grantaire cleared his throat awkwardly and made his way over to unfasten Enjolras' manacles from the chain around the bed. That done they both went about the usual business of getting ready in the morning. A quiet knock on the door announced Bossuet's arrival before he entered. Grantaire was just in the process of fastening his shirt ties when he looked over in despair at the garments Bossuet was carrying.

"No," he moaned, shaking his head as Bossuet advanced with a bright grin. Enjolras was staring at him but he couldn't bring himself to care right now.

"I'm afraid so. The Ridean delegation will arrive in an hour."

"Please Bossuet, you're a good friend. Have mercy and stab me so I don't have to go."

"I don't feel like committing treason today."

"Some friend you are." Grantaire took the bright green doublet and resignedly pulled it on over his shirt. "I'm not wearing the trousers," he added.

"I'll take what wins I can get. Be in the Grand Hall in half an hour or your father will kill me. There's food in the sitting room until then."

"I love you."

"You're a capricious bastard." Bossuet left them with a characteristic grin and Grantaire turned to face a confused looking Enjolras.

"Well, come on then. Breakfast awaits." Enjolras followed him silently, and sat picking at the fruit and bread spread out before them without saying a word.

"You aren't eating much," Grantaire noted once the silence had become too much.

"I have no appetite." In truth, Enjolras did look pale and tired. A pang of concern overcame him.

"You're not ill, I hope?" Enjolras stared at him intensely, though what he meant by it Grantaire couldn't tell.

"No, I'm not ill," he answered eventually, looking down at his plate.

"Tired then? You can rest today. I'll be gone all day dealing with the Ridean's. You can do as you like. Just make sure you stay in either here or the bedroom. There will be guards outside the doors."

"You're not going to chain me to something?" Enjolras rattled his manacles unconsciously as he spoke.

"Do I have to?"

"No. I won't… try anything."

Grantaire accepted that with a nod. Whether it was the truth would remain to be seen. But that was a thought to be dealt with when he wasn't about to be late for a diplomatic meeting.

"I'll see you this evening then," he said as he rushed out of the door. Hopefully he would still make the meeting on time.

  
  


This evening. Enjolras' stomach curled with unease and he was glad he hadn't eaten any more than a few bites of fruit. He only had until this evening before Grantaire would return and fuck him. It had been his suggestion, and a sacrifice he had been willing to make, but now that the reality of it was upon him it was difficult to bear. But bear it, he would. He had made a deal for the lives of those villagers, and for Combeferre and Courfeyrac, and he would not falter. Even if the thought turned his stomach.

The day passed in an anxious haze. Enjolras tried to distract himself with the books he found on the shelves in the sitting room, but he couldn't pay any attention to the contents. Mainly he sat and worried. He went over in his head everything that he thought Grantaire could possibly do to him. And then he went over it again, as though thinking through it all would make it any less horrible.

The only thing that broke up the day for him was a maid coming in to clean the rooms with a guard following behind her. The guard ordered him up against the wall where she could keep an eye on him while the maid cleaned.

"Really Eponine," the maid sighed, her voice light and lovely, "is that necessary? Grantaire wouldn't have brought him here if he was dangerous."

"I don't care," the guard-Eponine- answered. "Grantaire's an idiot, and I want him where I can see him."

"I'm Cosette," the maid told him brightly."Don't mind my companion. She's over protective, but she won't do you any harm so long as you don't try to hurt anyone."

"I won't." Enjolras glanced between the two of them warily. Cosette went about tidying things up, humming cheerfully all the while.

"Are those the only clothes you have?" she asked, coming out from the bedroom clutching the laundry. He nodded. "I'll bring you some more tomorrow if you can manage for tonight."

"Thank you."

They left soon after that and Enjolras was alone again.

All too soon the sun began to go down outside the window. Bossuet came and laid food out on the table, giving him a small smile but not saying anything. He left but Enjolras didn't touch any of the food. He wasn't sure if he was allowed, and he couldn't risk a mistake. He had taken to pacing the length of the sitting room, and that was how Grantaire found him.

* * *

  
  


“How was your day?” Grantaire asked, immediately removing the uncomfortable doublet. Enjolras looked at him, alarmed, and Grantaire briefly wondered if something had happened before Enjolras muttered a subdued “fine”.

“Good. I hope it wasn’t too boring, waiting for me all day. I’d thought that I would be back hours ago, but the Rideans simply wouldn’t stop talking.” He was talking without really knowing what he was saying- something he did far too often- but at least Enjolras had stopped looking so wary.

“About the borderlands?” he asked intently.

“Yes, about the borderlands. If it would save us these endless negotiations I would be quite happy to let them have them, but alas, my father has more principle than that.” He gestured towards the table laid out with food and they both sat down.

“You call that principle?”

“Yes, I’d call not letting someone take your land for the asking principle.”

“Is that not what your great-grandfather did when he took the borderlands from Ridea a century ago? What worth does it even have to you, here in the castle? It is not overly fertile land, it brings precious little capital. Why does it matter to you or your father outside of having more land, and keeping your pride intact?”

“What do you propose the solution is then?”

“Quite simply, that land should only belong to the community that lives upon it.” Enjolras’ eyes shone as he said this, and in them Grantaire could glimpse a mirage of what he was describing. A world where everyone owned the land they lived and worked on, and no more or less than that. Grantaire couldn’t help it. He laughed.

“What a world that would be! Truly, it’s a lovely dream.”

“It’s a possibility. A certainty even.”

“Ah, yes. Once you and your friends have cut down me and my family, you will build a new world from our bones and blood, isn’t that so?”

“No, I-”

“No? I have read your pamphlets, fair revolutionary. They are calls to arms.”

“Of course a nonviolent approach is preferred.”

“And if that isn’t possible?”

“Then I’ll take the death of those few supporting tyranny over the thousands that die from poverty each year.”

“How coolly you sit here and talk of my death.”

“How benign you are in admitting to tyranny.”

“Call it that if you will. I call it reality. The best way to help people is to work within the structure we have, however flawed it is.”

“You’re wrong.”

“It is fortunate for me then, that you sit here in chains, else my blood might stain this lovely table cloth.”

Enjolras jerked and looked down at the manacles round his wrists before looking back up at Grantaire. A look of fear had come over his face, so different than the righteous fury that had sat there so beautifully just a moment ago.

“I had forgotten myself,” Enjolras muttered, looking down at his lap. “Forgive me, Your Highness.” Grantaire nodded, not knowing what else to do. He wanted that fearful look off of Enjolras’ face. He wanted to go back and erase this entire conversation.

“I’m going out,” he announced, and Enjolras flinched at the suddenness of the exclamation. Grantaire tried to ignore that. “I don’t imagine I’ll be back for a while.” He headed to the door.

“Wait, please,” Enjolras exclaimed, grabbing Grantaire’s arm to halt him. “You’re not- not going to hurt Combeferre and Courfeyrac, are you? I’m the one that angered you. Please. Don’t hurt them for that.” 

Grantaire gaped at him.

“What?” he gasped. “I’m not going to hurt anyone. Christ, is that what you think of me?”

“I don’t- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend.”

“I’m not going to hurt anyone,” Grantaire repeated dumbly and then he fled. It was cowardly, perhaps, but he didn’t know what else to do.

* * *

  
  


Enjolras jerked awake from the uneasy slumber he'd fallen into to the sound of a body crashing into the door. He hadn't meant to fall asleep. He'd wanted to be awake when Grantaire came back, to make sure that he'd kept his word and Combeferre and Courfeyrac were still unharmed. He just managed to pull himself up from the armchair he occupied when the door burst open and Grantaire staggered through it, cloaked in the sour stink of wine.

"Ah, fair Apollo!" Grantaire cried, remarkably clear for someone so drunk. "You are a vision so beautiful surely even the gods would think themselves blessed to lay eyes on you. Come! Forget our spat and have a drink with me." He threw his arm out wide, clutching an open wineskin which spilled over onto the floor.

"I think perhaps Your Highness has had enough," Enjolras answered carefully. He didn't want to anger Grantaire twice in one day.

"Don't call me that. You said you'd call me Grantaire."

“I’m sorry, Grantaire. Perhaps you ought to go to bed?” Enjolras worried for a moment at what he might be bringing down on himself, but it was unlikely that Grantaire would be able to do anything to him in this state.

“Yes, to bed! And all will be better in the morning!”

Grantaire flung the wineskin on to the table and Enjolras took a moment to stopper in before following Grantaire to the bedroom. He found the prince fully dressed and face down on the bed. Enjolras hesitated for a moment before laying down next to him. He glanced at the chain wrapped around the bedpost, but even Grantaire would have to admit that it made little sense for Enjolras to chain himself to the bed. Just briefly, he thought about running. But there were guards on the door, no doubt, and Enjolras was still manacled and had no idea where Combeferre and Courfeyrac were. Resigned, he closed his eyes and tried not to think about what might happen tomorrow.

Enjolras woke to a pitiful groan coming from beside him. Grantaire sat up with his head in his hands.

“Dear God, I haven’t felt this awful in a while.”

“You did drink rather a lot.”

“I’m not saying I don’t deserve it, only that it’s been a while.” Enjolras laughed before he could think better of it, but Grantiare only looked up at him from underneath his hands and smiled ruefully. It was then that he caught sight of the unused chains wrapped around the bedpost.

“I’m glad to still be alive even though I didn’t restrain you last night.”

“I told you, I gave you my word. I won’t try anything.”

“Well then, I suppose these seem superfluous now,” Grantaire said, gesturing at the manacles. He grabbed the key from his bedside table and unlocked them. Enjolras rubbed at his chafed wrists and stared at Granatire.

“Thank you,” he said, a beat too late.

“Just don’t make me regret it,” Grantaire replied with a smile.

They shared a quiet breakfast together and Enjolras felt more peaceful than he had since arriving at the castle. Soon Grantaire left for more negotiations and Enjolras was alone once more.

* * *

Enjolras felt like he was losing his mind. It had been weeks. Weeks of sitting everyday, waiting for Grantaire to make his move and _nothing happening_. The waiting was almost worse than Grantaire just taking him. He couldn’t help but build it up in his mind, worrying and overthinking. He wished Grantaire would just do it so he knew how bad it would be. At least then the worrying would be over.

And that wasn’t even the worst of it. Sometimes Grantaire could be… _kind_ was the only word for it. Like that time with the garden.

  
  


_“Where are we going? Enjolras asked as he left Grantaire’s room for the first time in weeks._

_“You’ll see,” Grantaire replied, striding ahead of the single guard that accompanied them. “Don’t worry, you’ll like it,” he’d assured, and the strangest part of it was that he wasn’t worried at all._

_They arrived in a garden, completely empty except for themselves and a few insects buzzing around. It was beautiful, full of bright flowers and running water, the foliage interrupted every few paces with gorgeous marble statues._

_“I thought you might like to go outside,” Grantaire explained. “This was my mother's garden before she passed. No one really comes here anymore, so it seemed the best place to bring you.”_

_Enjolras was so elated he couldn’t help himself. He threw his arms around Grantaire before he could think to stop himself. When he’d pulled away Grantaire had smiled at him, bright and beautiful and Enjolras’ breath had caught in his throat._

  
  


And then there was the borderlands incident. Of all the things he’d expected Grantaire to do, that had never even crossed his mind.

  
  


_They were having dinner when Grantaire handed a document to him._

_“What do you think of this?” he’d asked. Enjolras had read it through and found that it was a proposal that a ballot be held, asking the people of the borderlands which country they would like to be a part of. It wasn’t until he got to the bottom and saw the signature that he realised…_

_“You wrote this?” he exclaimed._

_“Yes. It’s not quite what you said, but it’s the best that can be done now. If I can get both parties to accept it then at least the people of the borderlands will have a choice.”_

_“I never expected you would…”_

_“I’m a man of many mysteries, Apollo,” Grantaire relied, giving him a small smile. “But you think it will work? They might agree to it?”_

_“Yes, I think they just might.”_

  
  


Enjolras was losing all perspective. He was beginning to feel as though his captor was his friend. He had to do something. And then there was the matter of Combeferre and Courfeyrac. He needed to see them. So he would kill two birds with one stone. He would wait until Grantaire came back this evening, he would ask again to see his friends, and then he would get on his knees and earn it. Prove to himself once and for all what he was here for, and how Grantaire saw him.

He was shaking with anxiety by the time Grantaire returned, looking tired and pale from another long day of negotiations. Enjolras didn't know what expression was on his face, but Grantaire stopped the second he saw Enjolras.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, looking alarmed.

"No, I... I wanted to ask if you would let me see Combeferre and Courfeyrac?" Grantaire's face fell and Enjolras could see the refusal coming, so he ignored the dread pooling in his stomach and went to his knees in front of Grantaire. "I know you have no reason to allow me to and you're worried that I'll try to escape somehow if I do, but _please._ I can prove to you that I'll honour our agreement. I'm yours, and I'll remain yours no matter what."

Without giving himself time to think too hard about what he was about to do, he reached forward and started to unlace Grantaire's codpiece. He kept his eyes on what he was doing so he wouldn't have to see Grantaire's face as he finally got what he wanted. With his eyes focused on his task he flinched when Grantaire's hands came seemingly out of nowhere and held his own still. He finally looked up to see Grantaire looking down at him, his eyes wide with alarm.

"What are you doing?" he asked, not quite shouting, but louder than a normal conversation.

"I'm showing you that I'm yours," Enjolras answered, confusion colouring his tone. "I'm doing what you brought me here for."

"I didn't bring you here for that. You don't have to do _that._ "

"But-"

"Enjolras, I never agreed to your suggestion!" Grantaire looked stricken. "Have you spent this whole time thinking that I meant to- to rape you?"

Enjolras was silent, thinking back to that day in the village. It was true that Grantaire had never said that he accepted Enjolras' offer, but he had thought the fact that Grantaire called off his guards and took them away implicit agreement.

"But if you never meant to use me like that, why did you bring me here?"

"Because I didn't want you to die! Or for anyone in that village to be hurt."

"Why would you care?" Enjolras felt a headache building. He'd truly never been more confused in his life.

"I saw you and I heard you speak and I was lost. Enjolras-" Grantaire spoke his name, harsh and reverential, like an acolyte beseeching his god. "You must know," he finished, quietly. "You must."

Enjolras stood up, staggering backwards. He understood well enough what Grantaire was implying, but it wasn't possible. He couldn't possibly feel that way for Enjolras, the man he'd met while he called out for his family's blood. Yet, he'd been nothing but kind to Enjolras since he'd been here. He hadn't hurt him when he so easily could have. He'd even gone out of his way to make Enjolras as happy as he could be.

"You can't," Enjolras whispered, staring into Grantaire's sorrowful eyes. "You can't."

"I'm sorry." Enjolras' leg bumped into the chair behind him and he collapsed into it, his head falling into his hands. Grantaire continued. "This doesn't have to change anything. I won't pressure you to do anything you don't want to. I'll stay away from you as much as I'm able while still keeping up the illusion of why you're here for the rest of the kingdom." Enjolras looked up at him, but couldn't think of a single thing to say. Grantaire grimaced and seemed to understand. "You don't have to say anything. You can go and see your friends. I'll have the guards take you there. Spend the night with them if you like. Although, of course you're welcome to come back here if you want to."

Grantaire went to the door, had a brief conversation with the guards, and gestured for Enjolras to go out of the door. They shared one last fraught glance before Enjolras left.

* * *

Enjolras didn't remember the walk to the room where Combeferre and Courfeyrac were being kept. He came back to himself only as the guard unlocked the door he'd led him to. To his surprise, behind it was a light, airy room with two single beds, a desk, and even a small bookcase. It was nothing like the grim dungeon he had expected to find his friends in.

He saw very little for the next few minutes as his line of vision was obscured by Courfeyrac's mess of curly, dark hair as he hugged him close. Combeferre stood back, smiling and claimed him when he'd been released. Eventually he was let go, and they all piled on to one of the beds. Combeferre looked him over seriously.

"Are you alright?" he asked. 

"I'm fine." Combeferre raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Really, I am," Enjolras insisted. "He hasn't done anything to me. He's not… like that."

"You swear?" Courfeyrac asked, taking Enjolras' hand in his. "You're not just trying to spare us?"

"No. He really hasn't tried anything. In fact, he's been kind. So much more than he needed to be. Are you two alright? I was so worried you were being mistreated."

"We're fine," Combeferre assured him. "We've been here since we arrived. It's strange… It's not exactly your typical dungeon."

"I suppose Grantaire had you put here and saw to your welfare," Enjolras mused, biting his lip.

"Grantaire?" Courfeyrac stated.

"What's wrong?" Combeferre asked at the same time.

"I don't know that anything's wrong exactly," Enjolras admitted. "I'm just so confused. The prince… he isn't at all like I expected. He's never once taken advantage of me, and he jokes with the servants, and has everyone call him Grantaire, and he wants to give the people in the borderlands a choice about which country they live in, and he kept you in here instead of the dungeons, and he took me to the gardens. He's just so… so… _good._ It's maddening. And then-"

"And then?" Courfeyrac asked, exchanging a look with Combeferre.

"He said that he loves me."

"And you're afraid that he might harm you if you don't reciprocate?" Combeferre probed.

"No, no, he would never! I'm afraid that I might love him back."

"Well, what would be wrong with that?"

"He's keeping us prisoner! And- and- he's a prince! One day he'll be a tyrant!"

"It seems to me he saved our lives by taking us prisoner. It's not an ideal situation, certainly, but he doesn't seem to be lording any power over you. You just said yourself, he would never."

"And you can't know what he'll be in the future," Courfeyrac added. "The only thing that matters here is how you feel about him now."

"You're right," Enjolras decided. "And I should speak with him. But later. I have not seen you in weeks. You must tell me everything that has happened."

"Precious little has happened to us in here, but one of the guards gave us this delightful game and taught us how to play. His name is Bahorel. Perhaps you've met him?" Enjolras shook his head. "Well anyway, it is called chess and it can seem complicated at first, but it's engrossing. Maybe we can play?"

"I would like that," Enjolras answered, though really he would have been happy doing anything that his friends enjoyed.

* * *

Grantaire was surprised when Enjolras returned in the evening. He'd assumed that he'd be spending the night with his friends, not striding purposefully into Grantaire's rooms, looking like he was about to deliver a lecture.

"I spoke with my friends about what you said," Enjolras announced as Grantaire rose to his feet.

"It's really not important," Grantaire insisted. "We don't have to talk about it. We can just go on as we have."

"No we can't!"

Grantaire's heart sank. He'd ruined everything because he couldn't keep his mouth shut. And who was he to develop feelings for a man he'd taken prisoner. He wouldn't blame Enjolras for demanding to be as far away from Grantaire as possible, and he wasn't sure he had the heart to refuse him. Perhaps he could sneak him out of the castle in the dead of night, claim that he'd run away. The thought of not seeing Enjolras every day made him want to cry, but that was his burden to bear.

"What I mean is that I want to talk about it," Enjolras continued. "I was so confused because I couldn't hate you even as you kept me here. I have seen how kind you are to everyone around, how clever you are, and thoughtful. And charming even though it drives me mad sometimes. And what I'm trying to say is that I want to talk about what you said because I think I love you too."

Grantaire was gaping, he was sure.

"You can't mean that," he croaked. "Enjolras I- I understand you might be afraid of my reaction if you don't pretend to love me in return, but I promise you, you are in no danger from me. I could never do you harm. You must realise you have so much power over me. I would do anything to please you. So I beg you to be honest about your feelings, and not toy with mine."

"You would do anything?" Enjolras asked.

"Yes."

"Even let us go?" Grantaire closed his eyes tight to keep from crying.

"Yes," he admitted, quietly. "Even that."

"Open your eyes, Grantaire." Enjolras' voice came from much closer and when Grantaire opened his eyes he was right in front of him, speaking in a soft whisper. "You would let me go right now if I asked, so you see, there's no reason for me to do this other than that I'm telling the truth."

That was all the warning Grantaire got before Enjolras kissed him. It was only a soft brush of his lips against Grantaire's, but it was accompanied by such a rush of feeling that Grantaire's knees were close to collapsing. He swore the only thing keeping him on his feet was that if he fell his lips would pull away from Enjolras'. After an eternal second Enjolras pulled away. Grantaire barely restrained himself from grabbing hold of Enjolras and keeping him close.

"This is going to be so complicated," Grantaire breathed.

"I know. But we'll figure it out. I have faith in that. We'll find a way to make this work."

Grantaire leaned in for another kiss and to his amazement he wasn't rejected. This time he slid his arms around Enjolras' waist and held him. With him safely held in Grantaire's arms he couldn't help but believe that yes, they would figure this out.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you thought!


End file.
